


Lifetime Achievement

by Ephemera_pop (Alex_Draven)



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M, Secret Santa, Zombies, mtyg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-10-19 15:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10642281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex_Draven/pseuds/Ephemera_pop
Summary: He looked over and grinned at Chris, who grinned back like a maniac who had never once grouched about being too old for this dancing monkey shit.Joey could feel the smile stretching his cheeks as he sang and bounced and bye-bye-byed surrounded by his brothers-in-show-biz, buzzed like you wouldn't believe on the taste of dry ice and the scream of the crowd muted through his headset, and the voices of the other four layered over the top.There was something about the music and the chemistry, and the fact that it wasn't just a room full of random people chanting their name and screaming for them, it was a room full of fucking MTV superstars.Joey bounced three steps to his right, crossing back behind Justin to take his place for their final pose, and right there in front of him was Lady Gaga jumping in her seat, arms reaching out, like any teenie fan would have been back in the day, except in a mermaid shell bikini, and it was only the fact that Joey was a seasoned professional that kept him from laughing out loud because - seriously.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for luxshine, for Make the Yuletide Gay, 2013. It's a sequel to NoPseud's [ Party Like It's 1999](http://www.nsa.slashcity.org/nsa/fic/dwnoga2006.html), and many thanks to NoPseud for letting me do that.

They'd bitched their way through rehearsals, of course, because that's what you did when one of your oldest friends guilt tripped you into a ten day dance-a-thon bootcamp, and when he'd spoken to Kelly on the phone just before the show, Joey had admitted that he was looking forward to it, but looking forward to it being over as well, so he could come back to his regular life, but now he was up here?

He looked over and grinned at Chris, who grinned back like a maniac who had never once grouched about being too old for this dancing monkey shit.

Joey could feel the smile stretching his cheeks as he sang and bounced and bye-bye-byed surrounded by his brothers-in-show-biz, buzzed like you wouldn't believe on the taste of dry ice and the scream of the crowd muted through his headset, and the voices of the other four layered over the top.

There was something about the music and the chemistry, and the fact that it wasn't just a room full of random people chanting their name and screaming for them, it was a room full of fucking MTV superstars.

Joey bounced three steps to his right, crossing back behind Justin to take his place for their final pose, and right there in front of him was Lady Gaga jumping in her seat, arms reaching out, like any teenie fan would have been back in the day, except in a mermaid shell bikini, and it was only the fact that Joey was a seasoned professional that kept him from laughing out loud because - seriously.

As the opening bars of Justin's next song echoed around them, and the dry ice and confetti thickened the air, Joey felt the once-familiar shudder of his drop-down churning into action. Justin stepped forward onto the walkway, drawing the lights and the audience attention away with him, and Joey took a bow before looking over to wink at Lance as they descended. He turned the other way as he waved, and realised that instead of meeting Chris's triumphant expression at its usual angle, he was at just the right height to be smiling at Chris's ass.

Joey looked up, and Chris wove a shrug into his backing-dancer wriggle. His drop-down must have jammed - Joey could see that he was sunk a couple of inches down, but not actually moving. Still - better than the time the God Must Have Spent lifts had jammed, leaving JC and Lance stranded ten feet above the others, and easier for Chris to improvise around so it wouldn't distract from Justin's big day.

Joey crouched down to clear the stage, and hopped down from the platform. Lance was pulling JC into a hug, and Joey wrapped himself around them both, despite his vague awareness of the backstage crew hovering to take custody of the mikes.

"Oh, man," JC was saying, over and over, and Joey had missed seeing that open expression of joy on JC's face, and Lance's hand was hot against Joey's bare neck.

"Excuse me!" A tough-looking blond wearing a Little Monsters tank top and carrying a clipboard barked at them. "We need to clear the area." Her expression softened. "That was great, though." She turned her professional persona back on. "Your dressing room is back that way, and up two floors." She pointed down one of the bare hallways, and then her handset buzzed, and she took off to deal with the next live show crisis. As she turned away Joey noticed a bottle of bright green sports drink tucked in her back pocket.

They drifted towards their dressing room, peeling off jackets and unhooking mike packs. Joey pulled out his earpieces, swallowed to make the balance pop, and …

"Listen to that!" JC stopped dead, earpiece in one hand, the other gesturing up towards the stage.

"They really got into it," Lance grinned back.

"No, seriously. Listen." JC's smile was fading, and Joey realised that he was frowning himself.

The audience of pop stars and TV execs weren't just screaming and hollering like teenagers, they were … Joey swallowed again. They were chanting. Jus-tin, Jus-tin, Jus-tin. Something about the regularity, the way the whole audience was keeping time, punching the syllables… and then a second set of chanting kicked in, and Joey's stomach turned to ice.

"N-Sync! N-Sync! Jus-tin! N-Sync!"

Lance went pale beneath his fake tan. "Oh, hell," he whispered. "This cannot be happening."

"No, no, no, no," muttered JC, and he grabbed Joey and Lance by the arms and started hurrying them towards the dressing rooms.

Joey stumbled along for a few paces, his mind racing. This couldn't be happening. How the fuck was this happening? Again! The chanting developed a new, sinister undertone - the thump and rumble of a few hundred feet beating in rhythm on the floor above their heads, stamping a slow march in time to the competing chants.

"Not good," Lance said, and started rattling at locked door handles as they jogged along, picking up speed.

"Jay-Cee!"

It was only one voice, but it was clear, and it was close. Lance and JC pulled ahead as Joey spun around.

The show runner from earlier was following them determinedly down the hallway, while her handset squawked unanswered from her belt. She'd dumped the clipboard, and held her arms out towards them. In the dim light of the under-stage, it looked as though her eyes were glowing faintly. Green, like the bottle in her hand, and the staining around her lips.

"Jay-Cee!" she repeated, not even glancing towards Joey as she got closer, and that was creepy as fuck, it really was.

"Found one! Joey, come on!" Lance yelled back at him, and Joey found his feet moving before he could bring himself to look away from the oncoming zombie-fan. He stumbled, and went down on all fours.

"Joey!" It was JC who shrieked this time, which seemed to spur his number one zombie fan into a faster lurching shuffle, as well as deliver a spike to Joey's already flooded adrenaline system. Joey scrambled along, scuffing his hands on the cheap scratchy carpet, and eventually getting himself together enough to push into a sprint for the door frame Lance and JC were staring at him around.

He threw himself around the corner into some kind of merchandise store room, and Lance and JC slammed the door behind him.

"Pass me boxes." Lance's voice was tight, and he was fiddling desperately with the door handle, which Joey profoundly hoped had some kind of locking mechanism that didn't require a key. Both JC and Joey started pulling and poking at crates, trying to find something a bit more barricade-worthy than the half dozen MTV teddy bears that was Joey's first attempt.

Before they had a pile of boxes of programmes and t-shirts higher than waist height, JC's personal fan club had reached them, and the muffled thumps she was making against the door was faintly reassuring, if only in the sense that she didn't seem to be about to use the keys she had had dangling from her belt. The constant chorus of Jay-Cee was something all of them could have lived without, but at least there was just the one voice.

Joey tried not to imagine the scene upstairs in the main auditorium, failed, and slumped down against a row of shelving.

"Chris is still out there," Joey announced mournfully.

"And Justin," Lance added, but he didn't sound particularly panicked about it. Joey still felt a prickle of guilt that he'd almost forgotten Justin.

"We just left them," Joey continued.

"We didn't have any choice. What happened to Chris, anyway?" JC slid down the wall furthest away from the knocking reminder of what awaited them outside, and nudged his toes against Joey's thigh.

"His thing didn't go down," Lance filled in, while Joey fought his way past a mental montage of all the things that might have happened to Chris, and then got totally de-railed by how wrong Lance's sentence sounded.

"His thing?" Joey spluttered.

"His thang," Lance deadpanned back, and all the adrenaline and the emotional whiplash caught up with them, because they were laughing themselves silly over nothing.

Their giggles subsided, and a chill settled over them abruptly when the thumping at the door stopped, as did the eerie voice. The silence was uncanny, uncomfortable.

"What is it?" Joey whispered.

"How would I know?" Lance snapped back, but still keeping his volume down.

"Maybe she's recovered?" JC contributed, optimistically. "If it is like last time ... it wears off, right?"

"Last time, it took hours," Joey pointed out. "It was getting light outside, remember?"

They'd never really talked about last time, once the immediate crisis had passed, and it became uncomfortably apparent that the people who'd been infected really didn't remember what had happened while they were under the influence. At the time, Joey and Chris had been happy not to draw attention to how their personal situation had changed, and no one had ever suggested that they might need to have a debrief in case it happened again.

Lance and JC exchanged a look that Joey couldn't translate.

"I'm going to look and see," Joey announced after an uncomfortable silence. Even the noise from the auditorium was muted - unless that had stopped suddenly for no reason, too. "We can't stay stuck in here."

JC looked like he was going to argue, but Joey just heaved a box of hoodies down from the pile, dropping them so JC had to step back or get his toes squished, at which JC just held up his hands in a peaceable gesture.

He moved enough boxes to get the door open, just a few inches, enough to peek out.

The hallway was deserted; silent except for the buzz and flicker of a faulty fluorescent light.

Joey forced the door open a little wider, and leaned through the gap.

Still nothing.

He shut the door, and turned back, only to find that JC and Lance had backed themselves away into the farthest corner.

"Thanks for the backup, guys," he grouched.

"You're not the one with first-hand experience of being captured by zombie fans," Lance pointed out.

"But there aren't any zombie fans out there."

"You don't know that," JC insisted. "And we know that there were…"

"Whatever." Joey shook his head. This was not the moment for logical conundrums. This was the moment for action, and saving the day. "We have to get out of here, and we have to find the others and rescue them. The zombie stage manager seems to have vanished, so - this is our chance, right?"

Lance did not look convinced.

"What - you think holing up in a room with no way out but the one door, no food, no water, and a barricade made of cuddly toys is the best plan of action?"

JC tilted his head, like he was giving the idea serious thought, and for a split second Joey was hit by a wave of memories - Chris trying trying to talk JC into one crazy plan or another, and Lance being all prudish and "that could be risky" and Justin and Joey backing Chris's plans, because he always had crazy-awesome plans, and JC agonising over the decision like whether or not they went skinny dipping in Rio without a security team was a matter of life and death...

Joey swallowed and really wished he hadn't thought of it in those terms.

"OK," said Lance. "Maybe this isn't the best location possible, but I still think going out there without some kind of plan is dumb."

"I have a plan!" Joey protested.

"Find the others and get out of here isn't a plan, Joey. It's a goal, but not exactly a plan. What's the next step? Wander around hallways at random until we find the zombie horde again?"

"No," Joey found himself answering, the words coming out of his mouth before he'd had time to realise he was thinking them. "We're going to make for the elevators, get up to the top floor, and try and call for help. And if we can figure out what's going on and find Chris and Justin, all the better, but the sooner the NYPD rock up with water cannons or something, the less likely it is that someone's going to get badly hurt."

"That … That actually makes sense," Lance said, like he was surprised.

"Assuming someone else hasn't already called them. Or if, like, the whole of Brooklyn is full of zombies. We don't know this is like last time. We're just assuming."

"We're assuming because it's the only thing that makes a damned bit of sense."

"Yeah," Lance agreed. "I mean what are the odds, what with the reunion and the chanting, and that woman that was coming after JC - she was kind of green at the lips, right? You saw that too?"

Joey nodded. "Uh-hu - she had some bright green sports drink in her pocket. And they're behaving just like last time. It has to be."

"It doesn't have to," JC argued. "I mean, it's likely, sure, but the odds of someone making up a batch of Lou Pearlman's special fan-zombification sports drink and passing it out to a bunch of celebrities thirteen years after the guy died can't be that much greater than those of actual zombies…"

"And yet." Lance let the phrase stand.

"Exactly," Joey added after a moment, when it became clear Lance wasn't going to add anything further to the argument. "So are we agreed that that's the plan?"

JC and Lance both nodded.

"One question?" JC added. "Where are the elevators in this place?"

"We keep heading away from the stage, we'll find them."

They armed themselves with plastic poster tubes - the longest, pokiest thing they could find in the room - and shuffled the boxes far enough back to be able to open the door.

Joey went first, opening the door cautiously, straining his ears for any noises, and then looking each way a few times, before finally sliding out into the hallway. It was still deserted, although the buzz and flicker of the faulty light made him particularly glad that JC was following close behind, one hand on Joey's shoulder.

They scurried down the hallway, pulling up before the next junction for Joey to check out the next section for any signs of - anyone. Nothing and no-one moved, so they made another dive, this time jogging hand in hand down a long straight stretch that led to a pair of industrial elevators. Their buttons were illuminated, which Joey felt had to be a good sign.

The deserted silence was unnerving, though. Joey was sure that he ought to be able to hear the auditorium crowd, if only faintly, now they were out in the open again. What on earth was going on up there?

The ping of the elevator arriving echoed loudly down the hallway, and they all jumped.

The doors opened, and they almost tripped over each other trying to get in, and then likely unrealistic sense of security and relief that washed over Joey as the doors closed behind them made Joey's legs feel all rubbery. He leaned against the back wall of the elevator, while Lance pressed the button for the top floor.

The elevator rumbled slowly upwards, and, because this was the no-frills industrial elevator they used to haul crates of gear around in, and not the plush carpet-and-mirrors ones that the public or the artists would use, Joey couldn't help but notice that it was short of emergency assistance buttons; no intercom button, not even an old-fashioned red phone in a glass box.

They looked at each other as the elevator climbed, but no one said anything. JC looked pale and clammy, and Joey really hoped he wasn't going to faint. Lance looked more grimly determined.

Joey missed Chris. Not just in a "my boyfriend is out there somewhere with the zombies" way, but also in a "If I have to be trapped in an elevator during a zombie uprising, there's no one I'd rather have at my side than you" kind of way. Fleeing zombie fans wasn't intrinsically romantic, but recreating how you first got together kind of was, right?

And then the elevator jerked to a halt, and the doors started to open.

They all turned to face the - whatever might be waiting. Joey brandished his poster tube, and then felt profoundly ridiculous.

The silence that greeted them wasn't as reassuring as you might have thought, and they all stood frozen until the doors slid shut again. The lobby was brightly lit, with wheeled crates of gear pushed against the back wall, and no sign of anyone or anything moving around.

"So, what do we do now?" JC asked, clinging on to Lance's sleeve.

"We go find somewhere with a phone and more than one way in and out," Joey said. "We need to find out what's going on, and call in the cavalry. On three, right?"

Joey counted to three, and then Lance hit the door open button again.

They came out of the elevator in a close cluster, nerves straining for any sign of the zombies, and Joey was so tightly wound that, when a whoop sounded from behind one of the stacks of crates, he let out a totally unmanly screech.

Before he could even work out what was going on, there were hands grabbing at him, and JC yelped, and behind him Lance pulled away, and he heard voices calling their names, and-

"Chris!" Lance called, and the arms locked tight around Joey's neck, pulling him down, resolved into Chris's clinging.

"Oh, God, Chris," Joey whispered, and twisted round so he could see for himself that Chris was here, and not glowing or shambling or otherwise showing signs of zombification.

"Joe, fuck, Joe. Are you ok?"

"Are you okay?"

JC and Lance piled in to the hug, and, after a long minute they managed to untangle themselves.

"How did you get up here?" Lance asked Chris. "What happened to Justin?"

"I don't know what happened to J," Chris looked down and away. "It was chaos down there, and he was out on that island stage, you know? The dancers were already heading off stage when the crowd just turned. Fuck, man. It was just like that New Year gig. But they were mostly going for Justin, and none of the dancers or anyone seemed to be part of it yet, so I just shoved past them, and ducked into the fire escape. I figured that would set off the alarms, you know; get everyone out, but…" He shrugged. "At least I didn't hear anything, and it's such gridlock out there, I have no idea what's going on."

Chris gestured towards the far end of the hallway, where the lights of New York glistened through a wide, dusty, row of windows.

They shuffled down the hallway, unwilling to let go of each other. JC and Lance were the first to peer down, Joey looking over Lance's shoulder, and Chris hanging back now there was someone else to do the looking-down-from-a-height duty.

Joey rapidly decided that he could leave Lance and JC to make sense of the maze of lights and signs, and took the opportunity to pull Chris into a slightly less frantic embrace.

"Hi," he whispered, weaving his fingers in amongst Chris's.

"Hi, yourself." Chris leaned in, to rest his head on Joey's shoulder. "I am really glad to have found you."

"Me too. You remember …"

Joey could feel Chris smile against the bare skin of his throat.

"Seriously? You're reminiscing in the middle of all this?" The words were snarky, but Chris's tone was warm.

"Kinda hard not to, don't you think?"

Chris gave him a squeeze, and then lifted his head to meet Joey's lips in a soft kiss.

"Fair point," Chris murmured into the intimate space between them when the kiss broke.

"Lord, guys - get a room, would you?" Lance had, it appeared, no qualms about interrupting the moment. "Or better still, find a room with a phone. I'm pretty sure there are more news vans down there than would be covering the awards, but still…"

"You said you'd been hiding up here and hadn't seen any of them, right, Chris?" JC chimed in. He was looking better than he had in the elevator, but maybe that was just the change in lighting.

"Nothing stirring up here until you guys pinged up in the elevator. The fire doors are at the far end over there." Chris pointed over Joey's shoulder. "But I blocked them off with a couple of Pelican cases that weighed a ton. Plus the doors open the other way. "

"Okay, then." JC looked determined. "Let's go look for a phone. But let's stick together. "

"Sure thing, 'C." Chris let go of Joey long enough to sidle over and give JC a squeeze from behind, his face buried in JC's shoulder blades.

"You guys try the doors on the left, and we'll take the right?" Lance nodded towards the hallway running away from the fire doors, which had doors on both sides.

"Okay," said Joey, but he made sure to reclaim Chris's hand before they started walking and rattling at locked doors.

They were almost at the end of the hallway when JC and Lance got lucky.

"Hey guys, over here!" Lance called, disappearing into the last door on their side.

Chris and Joey followed JC into the room, which turned out to be a large corner office with windows on two sides, and three back-to-back pairs of desks, each with a phone and a PC, and a square yard or so of cubical partition that each desk-holder had decorated with personal photos and show flyers.

JC was already poking at the phone on the desk closest to the door, so Chris and Joey closed the door behind them, and started looking around for something they could use to block it off with.

They were man-handling a three-drawer filing cabinet corner-by-corner into place when JC's voice broke the silence.

"Police, please, ma'am. Yes. Yes, I understand. Hello? Is that the police? "

Chris and Joey listened intently as JC attempted to describe the outbreak of zombie-fans to the nice dispatcher at NYPD, and tried without much success to piece together what they might be saying to JC.

Meanwhile, Joey realised, Lance was typing away furiously. He nudged Chris, and together they drifted around the desk, leaving JC to talk as they peered over Lance's shoulder.

"Hey, man, when did you learn to hack computers?" Chris sounded impressed, and a little peeved, like that was the kind of thing someone should have told him.

"It's not hacking." Lance didn't look away from the screen, opening up more tabs in a browser, and launching several searches.

"We've been in here three minutes and you've broken into a locked PC - that's totally hacking!" Chris insisted.

"Dude - they had their password on a sticky note taped to the screen. It's not hacking. I just want to get an idea of …. Hmm."

Lance typed a flurry of commands, and then settled on one tab to skim through, then a second - faster than Joey could make sense of what he was reading.

The next screen, though, was Twitter, and apparently #vmazombies was a trending topic, which answered some questions, and raised a whole lot more.

Lance skipped down a few screenfuls of the hashtag, and then "hmm'd" again, following a link from twitter to an MTV webpage.

"Yes, ma'am. I understand. Thank you." Joey straightened up as he heard JC end his call.

"So, what did they say?" he asked.

"They have squad cars en route already, and we're to stay holed up up here unless the situation changes and we feel we'd be in danger staying put. It's on the news, apparently."

"I'll bet this is why," Lance interrupted. "The MTV live stream is still broadcasting."

"Holy shit," Chris swore. "Can you see what happened to Justin?"

They crowded around the screen, and Lance fiddled with the monitor to turn up the volume. The live stream was showing a wide shot out over the auditorium, and Joey's first impression was of rows and rows of empty seats and abandoned jackets and swag bags, and then, around the island stage, a veritable mound of people. The audio was faint, but the all-too-familiar chant of Jus-tin was still audible. It just didn't sound as urgent any more, more like a happy murmur.

The stream switched to a close up of the deserted main stage, and Lance swore under his breath.

"Damnit," echoed Chris. "I couldn't quite see… Can we switch the camera choices?"

Lance shook his head. "Looks like it's on an automatic cycle. I don't see anyone manning that camera back there. Do you?"

They all leaned closer, and then agreed that that was definitely an abandoned camera dolly in the back corner of the shot.

Another two minutes passed, and then the livestream switched cameras again, this time to close up of the island stage.

"Oh, man," Joey blinked, and then looked again.

"Thank goodness," JC said next to him.

"Trust Justin!" was Chris's addition.

Because there was Justin, sprawled on his back in the middle of the island, but moving and apparently un-injured, while a swaying audience made up of the stars of stage and screen intermingled with MTV crew and the odd security guard, stretched out their arms and contentedly chanted his name. And there, prowling round the edges of the stage, alternately stroking whichever part of Justin was closest, and swiping out at the crowd with long talon-like nails, was Lady Gaga. Her hair was dishevelled, she'd lost one high heeled shoe in the fray, and her shell bikini top was off-kilter and about to create another wardrobe malfunction to add to Justin's career record.

"What the hell?" Joey felt like that was a completely appropriate response.

"Is that who I think that is?" asked JC, and then the camera cut back to the wide shot, where it was barely possible to see what was going on.

Three minutes of wide shot, then three minutes of abandoned stage. Lance kept jumping between tabs, pulling up links and skimming the content.

The live stream returned to the island stage - where the scene was much as it had been, except now Justin was sitting up more - right around the time Lance announced.

"We need to watch this."

"Watch what?" JC asked.

"This." Lance clicked play on a video embedded in some fan site, and Lady Gaga's face filled the screen.

"This is a message to all my little monsters who are listening out there. You heard the rumours, and so did I, and it had better be true. I was the biggest fan of N-Sync when I was growing up, and Justin was always my favourite, so I hope you're all going to tune in tonight. I think their show is going to be … out of this world."

 

Lance paused the video. "Is she holding what I think she's holding," he demanded.

"That looks like…" Joey was interrupted by Chris's "That's fucking blue!" and JC's "Where would she even get that?"

Down in the bottom of the screen they could just see her left hand, which was wrapped around a bottle of suspiciously bright blue liquid, and there, right at the edge of the shot, below her thumb, something that looked a lot like their old logo design.

"I mean it," JC said. "Johnny got all the bottles they could find rounded up and destroyed. He even had to get a special contract from the waste company that dealt with the venue to be sure that the clean-up crews got everything incinerated. All part of the media spin to keep the whole thing as hushed up as possible."

"I don't know," Lance sounded grim, "But I think we can guess how this happened, though. And there's no way this can get covered up. It's all over the internet already."

"Yeah," said Chris, "But with her rep? No one's going to have trouble believing this was some kind of publicity stunt. As long as no one gets actually hurt, and even then..."

Lance tabbed over to E!News online, where a scrolling news strap informed them that N'Sync had reformed live on stage at the VMAs, and that Justin and Lady Gaga had persuaded all the stars in the audience to join in an incredible celebration of Justin's Video Vanguard Award.

"Well, okay then," said Chris, "I guess that's how it's going to play, but what I don't get is how one bottle of that stuff could have affected the whole crowd."

"Maybe she got the formula cloned?" JC suggested.

"Can you even do that?" Joey asked.

"If you're willing to spend enough money," Lance said. "What? I looked into getting this local soda from when I was a kid made up once, but it wasn't worth what they wanted me to pay for the licences and stuff. Once you've got a crate of the stuff made up, you'd just have to get it shipped here to be included in the gift bags and the buffet tables - maybe get some girls to hand out bottles to the public audience as they come in to the auditorium, like a promo thing…"

Chris squinted at Lance. "If I ever need to plan a PR campaign, I am so coming to you for help. Or if I decide to drug an entire television audience for some reason."

"I'm just saying!" Lance protested.

"They don't seem as … frantic? As the fans did last time?" JC had been staring fixedly at the computer screen while Lance and Chris had been talking. "Like, they were all over us, not just … whatever that is. They would totally have climbed the stage, I think."

"Maybe," Joey said, and then there was an awkward moment of silence where Joey at least - he assumed the others as well - tried not to think too hard about what their fans had been capable off last time.

Chris broke the silence. "But - think how hysterical the crowds were for us back then. I mean, tonight on stage was incredible, but it wasn't like a whole stadium of screaming teenies all screaming at once. Maybe that makes a difference?"

"Maybe," JC agreed "Or maybe the stuff is just less potent after all this time. Or maybe they got the formula slightly off for the drinks, or - maybe Lady Gaga's giving off her own "don't mess with me" vibe and that's calming them all down?"

"Who can even tell!" Lance said, rolling the office chair back from the desk, and leaving the screen showing the live stream. It was oddly reassuring to be able to see Justin sitting there, even if he was surrounded by an increasingly quiet, worshipful crowd.

Joey was pretty sure it was going to be bedlam once they finally got out of here - somewhere in the bowels of the building their phones were no doubt filling up with concerned messages and texts - but right now the adrenaline was ebbing, and here he was, surrounded by his friends, with Chris tucked up in the vee of his legs as he perched on the edge of a desk. He rested his chin in the prickly product-laden spikes of Chris's hair.

"Hey, Lance," Joey spoke without moving his head, and Chris squirmed against him. "Any chance you could get an email out to Kelly that we're ok?"

"And my mom?" Chris added. "I hate not having my phone on me, and I know they'll be worried."

"Sure." Lance turned back to the computer. "I'll get my assistant to get the phone tree moving," he said, already typing.

Outside, Joey could hear the distant wail of sirens.

"Sounds like the police are nearly here," Chris said. JC went over to the windows, trying to see what was happening, and grumbling that the angle sucked.

Joey and Chris stayed put, watching the livestream on the part of the screen Lance wasn't typing in.

The noise from the crowd was really dropping down. Their arms were flagging too - you could see even in the wide shot that people at the back of the cluster were starting to drift away, stumbling into seats, or back down gangways.

In the next shot of the stage, the rhythm of their chant broke down into just a general hubbub of voices and when the camera cycled around to the island stage again, even the people in the front row were turning to each other, looking confused and unsure of how they had got there. On the stage, Lady Gaga had stopped her circling, and was adjusting her top while staring fixedly at Justin.

"That has to be some kind of mega-awkward morning-after conversation they're having," Chris observed conversationally.

"I don't see them talking yet. All the same, I'm pretty glad we're hiding out up here," Joey agreed. He didn't plan on moving for a little while yet. Long enough for the PR people to have settled on a story that they could just nod and agree with. It wasn't like anyone could prove they hadn't just been holed up in their dressing room the whole time, and sometimes Joey was all for the easy life.

The camera went back to the wide shot, and Joey could see that the usual crisis-management teams were swinging into action, as people started moving more intentionally, picking up radios and plugging in headsets, or being ushered back to their seats. He thought he could pick out the show runner from the basement just on the edge of the stage-focused shot, talking into her radio, just before the feed went down, to be replaced by a 'Technical difficulties - MTV live streaming will be back on air soon!' fill.

Lance grunted as he saw the switch. "I wondered how long it would take for them to realise that was still broadcasting."

"Ten bucks says they're back on air in less than ten, making like that was a planned stunt,"

Chris threw the bet out like any of them were going to take it. They'd worked with MTV crews long enough to know that it was going to be five minutes max, and three was more likely. Just long enough for an unscheduled channel commercial to cover the joins.

"A blow job in the shower says it's under five," Joey whispered in Chris ear, just for the feeling of Chris stiffening in his arms. All these years together, and Chris was still delightfully shockable about any mention of their sex life in any kind of public.

JC wandered back across the room. "I can't see anything now they're actually pulled up at the building. You think it's over?"

Chris and Joey nodded.

"I think so," said Lance, "But I vote we stay here until we know for sure.

"Agreed!" JC nodded firmly.

A moment later - well inside Joey's five minutes - the streaming feed was back on their screen, and Jimmy Fallon was welcoming the audience back from the ad break like nothing had happened, and calling for Justin to get up on stage to collect his award.

The four other members of N'Sync watched intently leaning in together around the small screen.

Justin got Joey's personal award for stone cold giant cojones right there, as he bounded on stage, with no sign that just minutes before he'd been at the centre of a zombie fan outbreak, smiling, and being modest, and funny, and a total superstar.

"Kid done good." Joey smiled at the others.

"Yeah," Chris agreed. "That's a lifetime stage presence award worthy show right there!"

"You ever wish we were still out there doing that with him?" Lance asked.

JC shook his head, and Joey twisted around to catch a glimpse of Chris's expression.

"No." Joey met Chris's eyes and smiled, and Chris's smile brightened a notch in response.

"I got no regrets on how things have worked out."

~ fin ~


End file.
